The Lusty Vegan: Welcome to Fantasyland

I'm being facetious. This was my real life this week, and NOT a fantasy. #bragbragbrag

If your Valentine’s day was more Love Stinks than Love Actually, then you might welcome a little bit of fantasy right about now.

Fantasy, or “pretending” as you called it in your youth, can be a useful tool in all facets of your life. All those uplifting think-yourself-happy motivational types swear by using fantasy to improve yourself, except they call it “visualizing.” Visualizing yourself landing that promotion or killing that presentation will make you more likely to do so. That’s all good and well, but none of that is as fun as sexytime fantasizing.

Sexual fantasy allows you to explore sides of your sexuality you may not be able to in real life, and it creates a safe, super hot space for you to retreat to when you need a little, cough, motivation. Role playing? Done. Bondage? Yes please. Sex in public? On it! Sex with your ex, or best friend, or teacher, or boss? You betcha. Pony play? Uhm…maybe?

Fantasy is amazing because your brain can design scenarios that are probably much more fun than anything you could get into in real life without the help of Craigslist or some really, really, really outgoing and generous friends. And the best thing about fantasizing is you don’t actually have to DO those things, ever–sometimes imagining them is the best part. Anyone remember that Friends episode where Ross has a threesome with his wife and another woman? He gets totally cut out of the lovefest and ends up in the kitchen making a sandwich. His wife later leaves him for the other half of their menage trios. Good for the happy lady-pair, but Ross would have been better off leaving the threesomes in his brain.

Obviously, fantasizing when you’re going at it alone is essential, unless you’re using porn. (I’d link you to some porn, but I am currently visiting my mother in Hawaii and using her computer and upon handing it over she specifically said “don’t look at anything weird.”) Sometimes, I prefer doing it myself for the sole reason I can retreat into my own fantasy land and selfishly ignore everyone else, much like a 13 year old boy retreats into his basement to play WOW when he doesn’t want to deal with the harsh truths of puberty.

Masturbation aside, I think it’s also acceptable to fantasize when you’re playing with a friend–whatever gets you there. Clearly, you should be considerate. Don’t call your partner by your personal trainer’s name, and if they ever ask you if you think about anyone else, please, for the sake of your relationship, LIE. I am sure my boyfriend and boyfriends of the past have thought about someone or something else while 6 (or 3) inches deep and I really don’t want to know. Ignorance is bliss!

Fantasizing isn’t only fun for sex, though. Sometimes I like to fantasize when I write my own bylines–a task I loathe.

Here is an example:

Zoe Eisenberg is a writer who lives in Hawaii with her cat, Zucchini; her dog, Rooster; and her boyfriend whose dick is roughly the size of her forearm.

See, wasn’t that fun? Here’s another:

Zoe Eisenberg is a writer who can orgasm on command.

Both of those bylines are more fun than the actuality of my life, and that’s okay. It’s okay to indulge in fantasy every now and then, whether alone or by yourself–just be sure you can center yourself and face reality when the time comes.

Zoe Eisenberg is a writer who lives in Stamford, Conn., a city full of boring mid-twenty-year-olds who work in finance. She lives with her cat, Zucchini. If her landlord would let her get a dog, she would name it Rooster. Her “It’s Complicated” boyfriend’s penis is nice… but nowhere near the size of her forearm. This is probably for the best.